


and i'll close your parentheses

by hurryup



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, M/M, Massage, Multiple Orgasms, gentle dom link makes me wanna get drunk and cry a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup
Summary: Allen's been having a rough time. His boyfriend helps him through it.





	and i'll close your parentheses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dimrooms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimrooms/gifts).



Over the course of the month, something had been building up in Allen's chest. Something tight and unpleasant. Something that was barely, frantically holding itself together, raw and ugly and black as night.  
  
Allen wasn't entirely certain what it was. It could have been any number of things wearing him down, some specific combination of exhaustion and anxiety turning his mind into hot, live static. Work. Debts. Sleeplessness, and worse, the nights he did sleep and woke up paralyzed with some vivid nightmare, fantastic in its detail and hideous in the scope of its violence.  
  
There was no shaking it off. No biting it back. Even now, while he lingered in the warm threshold of Link's apartment, Allen couldn't quite swallow down the tumult. Maybe it was because he was with Link he found himself close to _shaking—_ it had always been so much harder to hide from Link. He had a funny way of pulling honest emotions from Allen; untangling them like a skein of yarn. It made it hard for Allen to wall up whatever he was feeling. Harder to escape.  
  
Link was still dressed for work, that night, though he'd ditched the suit jacket. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, a nice tie, and a pair of navy slacks that were tailored to the lean, subtly muscled planes of his body. He'd brought his braid around to rest over one shoulder. He looked good. He was frowning, though, caught in an expression of quiet concern that Allen had grown incredibly familiar with over the last several months. He supposed it was his own fault that this expression was such a common one. That thought alone put him dangerously close to apologizing, and that would certainly send him over the edge— Allen had so much to atone for. If he started trying now, he'd certainly never be able to stop.  
  
"Are you alright?" Link prompted, cutting clean through whatever vague, trivial conversation they'd be in the middle of. He put one hand on Allen's shoulder, caressing his collarbone with the pad of his thumb. Allen very nearly started, startled by the gentleness with with Link laid his hands on him. Link's kindness had a strange taste to it— sweet, but frighteningly unfamiliar.  
  
Before Allen could even deliberate on whether he really deserved Link's kindness at all, he found himself breaking against it. Falling deep into it. He put one hand over Link's, holding it there, his touch, his tenderness. He could hardly help it. It was the closest thing to relief he'd felt in days.  
  
Allen reached up and touched his own face. There were tears there, hot and wet against his fingers. Strange how he hadn't noticed them at all up until now. Ridiculous, really. Against all odds, he found himself laughing— a breathless, helpless little sound that communicated more of his exhaustion than he'd hoped.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, wiping at his tears furiously with the ball of his palms. "I don't... I don't know what's come over me. Honest."  
  
"Allen..." Link said. He looked distraught, maybe even a little uncomfortable, eyes shifting back and forth from around the room back to Allen's face, the tears streaming down.  
  
Allen shook his head rapidly, a please stop, points of his teeth biting into his lower lip. He knew when he was being pitied.  
  
"I don't know. It's nothing, okay? It's nothing."  
  
Link said nothing, this time. Instead, he just pulled Allen close. He was warm. Solid. Allen could've collapsed, right there, right then. But that would've been stupid. Even more stupid than the tears. He put his face into the crook of Link's neck, arms winding their way around Link's neck and holding there.  
  
"I've just been really tired," Allen concluded lamely. His voice was somewhat muffled, lips moving against the stiff collar of Link's dress shirt. He was cut off by a quiet hiccup, followed by the mortifying realization he was ruining their evening.  
  
"I know," Link said. He began to pull away from Allen, very slowly, and Allen was struck with a pang of hysteric desperation. He reached back wildly, fingernails digging hard into the fabric of Link's shirt.  
  
"Don't go," Allen said, fast, before he could even think about it. Then, "I don't know why I said that, I don't know, I really don't know why I'm..."  
  
Link didn't try to disentangle the two of them, this time. Instead, he seemed to acquiesce to Allen's pleading, holding him a little closer against his chest. Link's hands, which had at first been settled carefully over Allen's hips, slid up his back, rubbing smooth circles into Allen's skin through the thin cotton of his shirt.  
  
"I'm right here," Link said. It sounded almost like a promise. One Allen desperately wanted to believe in, regardless of whether or not he could. He clung to Link a little tighter, fighting back the onset of a fine tremble, which had begun in his hands and was slowly diffusing to possess his entire body. "I want to take care of you, Allen. Is that alright?"  
  
Allen didn't know what to say about that. He couldn't possibly say yes, could he? He couldn't possibly ask for Link to justify his weakness on a moment-to-moment basis— but all the same, he could hardly bring himself to refuse. Not when he wanted it so badly.  
  
"You... don't have to do that," Allen temporized, eyes fluttering shut when Link's nails scratched lightly over the back of his neck.  
  
"I know. That's why I'm asking that you let me."  
  
Allen laughed again, a sound hysterical to his own ears. God. Link could be stupid sometimes. The right kind of stupid, though. His heart was burning up for it.  
  
"Okay," Allen said. He opened his eyes again and took in a long, shuddering breath.  
  
"Okay?" Link repeated. He withdrew from the embrace, holding Allen in front of him at arm's length. This time, Allen let him.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Okay."  
  
It felt a lot like giving in.  
  
Link pressed a quick consolation of a kiss to Allen's forehead.

Well. Perhaps there were worse things.  
  
"Wait here," he said. He released Allen, retreating back down the hallway for a moment. Allen stood awkwardly in the hallway, fidgeting and fretting, fluttering between flashes of self-consciousness and the quiet hum of Link's reassurance. He wouldn't leave Allen. Not now.  
  
Not ever, he hoped.  
  
True to his word, Link was back in a minute, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He took Allen by the hand. Quiet warmth in his touch. He led Allen through the apartment, slow and patient. Allen followed. He followed mutely, followed blindly.  
  
Once they reached the hallway, it was clear what Link had been getting ready. The heat had been turned up in there, a little too warm now but it would be just right with fewer clothes on. The overhead light was off and the lamp had been moved to Link’s bookshelf so that it cast a warm glow half-over the bed, the rest in soothing shadow. The bed had been stripped back carefully, a bottle of oil in a small bowl of faintly-steaming water was waiting on the nightstand.  
  
Link coaxed Allen out of his clothes, guiding Allen's shirt up over his head and thumbing the button on his jeans open, slowly and patiently. Though there wasn't anything heated or even necessarily sexual about the touch, Allen felt a distant tug of arousal curl low in his belly, if only a response to the sensation of Link undressing him. Link's hands moving assertively over his bare skin. Link watching Allen squirm with serious, loving eyes.  
  
Allen reached for Link's belt uncertainly, but Link caught him by the wrist and gently turned his hand away.  
  
"I'd rather this just be about you, for now," he said. His voice was quiet, but firm. "Is that alright with you?"  
  
Allen nodded, slack, not knowing how to respond, how he could even begin to argue against that. Link rewarded him with a chaste kiss on the forehead.  
  
Link pulled Allen towards the bed, guiding him until he was lying down flat on his stomach. He knelt over Allen, not quite draped over him, but close enough that Allen could feel the pleasant heat radiating off Link's clothed body up against his own naked back. Link ran his hands up Allen's back delicately, just to settle him down. It was effective. Allen tucked his face against the bed, shivering with something that wasn't quite anticipation.  
  
There was a pause, during which Link's hands left him. There was the soft click of a cap popping open. The slight, fragrant scent of the oil. Before Allen could miss him, Link's hands had returned, soft and slick. He started at Allen's shoulders, pressing down with the heels of his palms. Then down again, more gently. Further down. Massaging Allen's lower back, thumbs kneading over the flush of his hips.  
  
Little by little, Allen's hiccups and shakes gave way into shaky sighs, and, on occasion, little moans. With each caress, he felt himself growing loose and pliant under Link's touch, tension bleeding out of his body. It was difficult to remember why he'd been upset, like this. It was difficult to think of anything at all, other than Link's clever hands, and Link's warmth, and the shivery-good sensations trawling up his spine. He could feel himself getting hard.  
  
Link's hands skimmed over Allen's bottom, too fast, moving down to Allen's thighs and knees. Allen made a low whine, shifting restlessly in protest. Link placed one hand on Allen's lower back, stilling the convulsive movements of Allen's hits. At the same time, he took hold of the back of Allen's neck and pressed: only a little, just enough to make Allen understand that he was being held in place. _Be patient._  
  
Link caressed his calves, kneading firmly and carefully at the tendons, the dip at the side of his knee, and further up the back of Allen's thigh. He knew the right spots by rote.  
  
“Link,” Allen said, his name half-slurred and rounded in his mouth. He grinded against sheets, desire diffusing throughout his whole body, already lazily alight with Link's attentions.  
  
“Shh,” Link said,“it’s all right," and slid his hand, finally, between Allen's legs. The cotton was hot and damp, and Allen moaned openly when Link palmed over his balls, the touch inquisitive. "Would you like for these to come off?"  
  
A subtle request for consent. Allen nodded, and Link hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of Allen's boxers and tugged them down, away and off his body, exposing Allen's ass and cock to the open air. Link paused again, and Allen glanced back helplessly, watching as Link poured more oil into the palm of his hand, long fingers glistening wet and _yesyesplease_.  
  
Allen moaned when Link massaged over his ass and entrance in a definite sexual echo of his earlier ministrations. It seemed to take forever for him to finally push one finger inside of Allen, but once he did, it was worth the wait.  
  
Link stretched Allen slowly, working Allen's body open with an unrushed languor. The glide was liquid smooth, and Link's touch was firm without any roughness. He was thorough. Fantastically so. Allen choked out a gasp, and Link slowly pressed a second finger inside, hot and indulgent and so fucking _good_.  
  
Link's fingers brushed up against that spot deep inside of Allen, and Allen let out a long moan that was almost completely involuntary. His cock, which had been about half-hard up until this point, jumped to attention. By the time Link was slipping in a third finger, Allen was positively squirming against the sheets, mind fuzzing over with the pleasure surging from the counterpoints of Link's fingers grazing his prostate and the delicious friction of his bare cock rutting against the sheets.  
  
It was perhaps the first time Allen was really able to appreciate the sensation of being fingered for what it was, and not just as foreplay or preparation for a more involved activity. In fact, the way Link was working him over so slow and so sweet, the stretch wasn't even painful, like it sometimes was when Allen did it to himself, overeager and desperate to have Link's cock inside of him as soon as possible.  
  
"Link," Allen gasped against the sheets. He spread his legs, panting, canting his ass in Link's direction, not caring if he looked stupid or slutty or selfish, just caught up in the sweet sensations Link's fingers were inspiring. "Your fingers— Link, Link, I can't..."  
  
"Feels good?" Link murmured.  
  
"Yes, _God_ ," Allen shut his eyes tight, forcing himself to swallow when the threat of actually drooling over the sheets became too great. "So, so good, Link, Link, _a-ah_!"  
  
Link's fingers curled inwards, stroking Allen in a firm come-hither motion, and Allen cried out, broken, wanton, pushing his hips back against Link's hand. His cock was aching hard and leaking precome, a steady drip that was soaking through the sheets beneath him.  
  
"You're incredible," Link said, voice raw with wonder. Allen fisted the sheets, turning his face against the mattress. "God. I only wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Absolutely incredible."  
  
That was just too much. Allen choked out a moan that was just as much a sob— this was too much, too much of everything, Link's touch and Link's voice and Link's love and Allen's own shivering submission to it all.  
  
"Please, please," Allen said, not knowing what he was asking for but knowing he would die without it. He was building closer and closer to the edge, "I'm so close, so—"  
  
"Do you think you can come from just this?" Link's fingers were pressing up right there, just right, and Allen yelled with pleasure, sweating and trembling and wanting. "Could you do that for me, Allen?"  
  
"Don't stop," Allen begged. "Please, please, please, _please,_ _Link_ —"  
  
His voice stuttered out, tripping over the sound of Link's name as a wave of pleasure rolled in, collapsing over him. Allen came dry, lips parted around a silent cry; an intense sensation that burned and burned at the center of his gut. He was dizzied by the sensation.  
  
Link pulled his fingers out slowly, and Allen shivered. He couldn't move, couldn't hardly think.  
  
Very gently, Link turned Allen over until he was lying flat on his back, the bob of Allen's cock, still aching, was caught between them.  
  
"You came dry," Link noted. His eyes were dark, stare heated. Hot enough to burn. He reached out, wrapping a hand around Allen's cock. "You're doing well, Allen. Doing so well."  
  
Allen moaned, as overwhelmed by Link's praise as he was by his touch.  
  
_I'm in love,_ Allen thought. _I'm in love, in love, I love, I love._  
  
"So good," Link said. Tone hushed, reverent. A prayer. He stroked down the length of Allen's cock, smooth and strong. "So good for me, love."  
  
And that was all it took. Allen's second orgasm was merciless— his entire abdomen ached with with the force of it. He twisted his hands into the sheets, nails rasping against them, gasping and panting for air as he came in hot spurts all over his stomach and Link's hand. If his first orgasm had been intense, his second was devastating.  
  
For a long moment afterwards, he did nothing. He lay back against the bed, fighting to regain his breath. True to character, Link leaned over to the nightstand, reaching for a tissue to wipe Allen's release from his fingers. There was a prim charm to his movements. Very him. He returned to Allen after only a moment— it was nice, Allen thought, to think that Link was never too far from him.  
  
He felt particularly aware of his nudity. Somehow, the sense of exposure was heightened by the fact Link was still fully clothed. In fact, Link hadn't even bothered to loosen his tie, and it hung between them, nearly brushing against Allen's bare chest. Despite that, Allen felt completely unselfconscious. Link lowered one hand to cup Allen's cheek, and he closed his eyes, feeling boneless, pliant, and above all else, safe.  
  
"How are you doing?" Link murmured. He ran the pad of his thumb down across Allen's cheekbone.  
  
In way of response, Allen grabbed Link by the tie and pulled him down for a deep, slow kiss.  
  
Link jerked forwards, weight on top of Allen just the way he liked it, pinning him down. He softened against the kiss, nudging into it with such care and such gentleness that Allen's heart cried out. Link tasted sweet, but smelled rich and masculine, and Allen was in love, in love, in love.  
  
Remembering the stripes of come spattered on his own stomach, pressed between them, Allen released Link. If Link thought it was disgusting, however, he had the grace not to let it show. Instead, he ducked upwards to press a kiss over Allen's eyelids, fluttering warm and soft.  
  
It was then that Allen realized Link was hard. He could feel the hot brand of his erection through the rough cloth of his pants, brushing just slightly against Allen's belly at this angle— just enough to drag a low hiss of pleasure of out Link.  
  
"Oh," Allen said. He blinked, trying to focus himself through the haze of exhaustion. "You're still..."  
  
He reached out to grope Link's crotch lazily, and Link actually laughed. A soft, strained sound.  
  
"Go to sleep," he said, sincere. "If you want to do more when you wake up, we'll do more."  
  
Allen hesitated, caught between guilt, uncertain confusion, and the drowsy temptation to curl up against Link and comply.  
  
"Are you sure?" Allen demurred, sotto.  
  
"I'm certain," Link said. He shifted to lie down on his side beside Allen, and Allen inched close without even needing to think about it, chasing that warmth.  
  
"Stay with me?" He asked, hushed, hopeful. Link's arms came up around Allen slowly, holding him close.  
  
"If that's what you want."  
  
"Mmm," Allen said. He put his face against Link's chest, breathing him in. Then, because he couldn't stand not to say it, he lifted his head and said, "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Link said. Their hands intertwined. They clasped each other, there in the quiet, with the unspeakable gentleness of two people who, once lost, had now found their back home through one another. Allen's heart beat against his chest. He imagined that Link's heart was beating back for him, beating in response like the last verse of some vague and beautiful music.  
  
The love there was everything. The most real thing in Allen's life.  
  
Allen curled up, bare skin sliding across the sheets like silk, and turned the television in his mind to a dead channel.

**Author's Note:**

> based off of [this](https://twitter.com/dimrooms/status/852666225213579264) twitter thread, which... i couldn't get out of my head, evidently. title's from 'parentheses' by the antlers.
> 
> a gift for the lovely bri, who always brings a smile to my face~
> 
> hurryupfic @ tumblr  
> fuckhowardlink @ twitter


End file.
